


I Found All I Needed In Your Eyes

by mending_fences



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Clubbing, Glitter, Jonny Wears Streamers, M/M, Patrick Wears Skinny Jeans, Public Sex, Smoking Pot In The Bathroom, lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 17:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11384877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mending_fences/pseuds/mending_fences
Summary: “Here, put these on and go do your hair and stuff. We’re going out.” Jonny pulls an outfit and a small leather pouch out of his suitcase and throws them on the bed, a big smirk plastered on his face. Pat recognizes them instantly.“The fuck, Jon, you’re taking meclubbing? That’s why we ducked out of dinner tonight? What’s the occasion, loser?” Patrick is smiling wide and bright at Jonny, who is already stripped down to his Hanros and busy hanging up his suit.“Oh, I don’t know. It’s Friday night, we’re in fuckingJerseyand I had a thought. And we’re not going clubbing. We’re going to aclub. Just one. Now hurry up, the car will be here in half an hour.”





	I Found All I Needed In Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place following a loss in New Jersey on 11/6/15.
> 
> It really was 70° at midnight in NYC in November.
> 
> Pacha's was a techno/dance club in Manhattan that closed 1/24/16.
> 
> No beta here--I apologize in advance for my love/hate relationship with points of view and verb tenses....
> 
> Title from _Come And Save Me_ , by Gloriana

** 

“Are you sure about this?” Pat asks him. It’s been less than an hour since they left Prudential Center, making no excuses why they weren’t going to Fernandes’ for Rodizio and Blue Sangria with the rest of the team. 

“Not a big deal. TVR left with his family and took Darls with him and I didn’t even ask where Soupy was heading. Complicity and, yeah no, don’t want to know _at all_ ,” Jon responds. “Besides, after tonight’s shit show, let them think I’m going back to my room to brood and you’re coming with me to make sure I don’t break anything again. Or what the fuck ever.” 

“Complicity, huh. That’s an interesting word choice with big implications. Do I need to more fully familiarize myself with what I’m pretty sure I’m about to become complicit in right here?” 

“Yeah, Pat, I think you do. Here, put these on and go do your hair and stuff. We’re going out.” Jonny pulls an outfit and a small leather pouch out of his suitcase and throws them on the bed, a big smirk plastered on his face. Pat recognizes them instantly. 

“The fuck, Jon, you’re taking me _clubbing_? That’s why we ducked out of dinner tonight? What’s the occasion, loser?” Patrick is smiling wide and bright at Jonny, who is already stripped down to his Hanros and busy hanging up his suit. 

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s Friday night, we’re in fucking _Jersey_ and I had a thought. And we’re not going clubbing. We’re going to a _club_. Just one. Now hurry up, the car will be here in half an hour.” 

Patrick reaches out and tweaks a handful of ass as Jonny walks past him. “A thought. Riiight, thanks for the warning. So where are we going? Somewhere across the river I hope.” 

 * 

Jonny did his homework. 

Pacha’s recently announced the end of its era in Manhattan and is currently on a countdown to closing the doors permanently, which instantly vaulted it to the number one dance club in the city. Everyone in the tristate region wanted to see and be seen these last few times and especially tonight. 

70 **°** at damn near midnight in November meant that Pacha’s is jammed beyond capacity, which is quite the fuck load of people. Inside is a whole shiny world made up of millions of streamers, tons of glitter, dozens of strobes, sooo many go-go boys and girls, endless black lights and wall to wall hot, sweaty bodies in various stages of undress all moving to the non-stop _thumpa thumpa_ bouncing off of every solid surface. Anonymity is a given when it’s like this, which suits Jonny perfectly. He’s a big fan of the whole hide in plain sight phenomenon. No one shows even a hint of recognition as they walk in and the boys take full advantage, smoking up a little in the men’s room before hitting the bar and then the dance floor. It’s so rare that they can go out and just be another couple in the crowd. It certainly doesn’t hurt that the vast majority of the patrons are male and kind of all blend together. 

* 

Jonny’s hands slide into the cut out sides of Pat’s tank, along his back, down over his ass, chest pressed to his, cock jutting thick against his stomach. He holds him tight as they move together, hips following hips, lost in the sensual, liquid beat of the music. Pat opens for Jonny’s tongue, twisting, lapping, sucking softly and tasting the spiced rum from earlier. He’s hard, so hard it’s driving him crazy, so hard it fucking hurts and he knows anyone who wants to can easily see the outline of his dick pressed along his zipper. Jon dressed him in his white skinnies and there’s no way to hide anything in them, especially when they’re lit up, lustrous and shimmering under the black lights. 

“Wanna fuck you,” Jonny says against Patrick’s mouth. He’s drenched in sweat and his eyes are closed and there’s glitter clinging to his eyelids, streamers tangled in his damp hair. He’s loose, relaxed, completely oblivious to everyone and everything around them and he’s never looked more beautiful to Pat. He fucking _loves him_ like this, loves that he gets to have him like this, even if it’s only for a few hours every few months. He’ll always take it for the rare treat that it is.  
  
“Yes.” Pat whispers back and nods slowly. He’s suddenly desperate for his ass to be full of Jonny’s fat cock and he wonders what Jonny would do if he dropped his jeans right here in the crowd.  

The familiar buzz of tension and anticipation is coursing through Pat’s veins in time to the music. He shivers as Jonny wraps his fingers around his wrist and leads him off the dance floor. He can still feel the scorching heat of his hands on his bare back, the weight of Jon’s tongue in his mouth--can’t wait to feel the weight of the rest of him everywhere, pushing him down, filling him up. Patrick knows he’s _glowing_ because Jon’s taking him back to the hotel to fuck the mother fucking shit out of him. 

“Hey, this isn’t the way out. Aren’t we going back to…?” Patrick’s question trails off as Jonny pushes through a nondescript set of doors by the main bar and leads him down a dark stairwell. He’s still gripping his wrist. 

The hallway at the bottom is long and shadowed and the air is hotter, thicker. The unmistakable smell of sweat and come is overpowering and Patrick’s eyes go dark and wide as he takes several deep breaths, attempting to process his surroundings. He doesn’t understand why they’re here and it makes him nervous. 

Jon grips Pat’s wrist a little tighter. He presses his thumb hard into his damp palm, grounds him as best he can and pulls him along into the darkness. Their eyes adjust by the time they reach the end of the hallway and now Pat can see flashes of movement all around him. Pale shapes against black walls, twisting, rocking in an abbreviated rhythm, like dancing but…not. It takes a minute or two for his brain to catch on. _Definitely_ not dancing. It’s guys fucking and being fucked. Mouths open. Gasping, moaning, fingers digging into thighs, hands parting, holding tight. Guys sucking, being sucked. Heads bobbing up and down on dicks, fistfuls of hair, fingers gripping, guiding, knuckles white and clenched. 

Jonny watches Patrick closely as he struggles to take it all in. His pulse is racing, his lips are wet and parted and his breathing is heavy as he tries to focus. It’s obvious Pat can’t concentrate by the way his eyes jump from face to dick to ass to mouth, over and over in quick succession, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. Jon is far from unaffected himself when he leads Patrick to a vacant space just a few feet wide and spins him around until his back is nearly flush against the concrete. It’s rough and cool where it touches exposed skin and feels surprisingly good.  

Jon grips Pat by the chin, a soft smile on his face as he catches his attention for mere seconds before Pat’s eyes move to settle on the young man getting his ass righteously pounded just a couple of feet away from him. Jonny follows his gaze. 

“See something you like, Pat?” 

"Heard rumors…uh…never thought that…um…here…us…yeah, Jon. Yeah, I do…” Pat’s tongue is tripping all over itself as he tries to form a sentence. He’s pretty sure that’s not happening any time soon. And this isn’t exactly a place conducive to talking anyway. 

So while he’s still stuttering, Jon is reaching down to cup Pat’s crotch. His thumb is dragging across the obvious bulge and the rest of his fingers are pushing between his thighs. Pat squeezes his eyes shut for a second, losing focus, and then his head lifts up and his eyes lock on Jonny--the film of sweat covering his forehead, the vein throbbing at his temple, wet parted lips, that _look,_ piercing, heated, so fucking hungry that Pat can no longer see anyone else in the room. There’s just Jonny, and Patrick can barely even breathe. He tries to catch his breath, but Jon’s mouth is on his stealing it away before it can pass through his lips. 

The kiss is demanding and familiar and Pat’s head is pushed back against the wall from the force of Jonny’s tongue fucking between his teeth. Lips drag from mouth to chin to neck and it doesn’t take long for Jonny to find that tender spot between two pale freckles, just below his ear. He sucks at it, biting, burning his mark into Pat’s skin. The sensation of his blood being pulled to the surface sends a wet heat straight to Pat’s dick and he holds Jonny’s head right where it is, losing himself in pleasure edged with that perfect veil of pain. It overloads his brain with all of the possibilities. 

“Jonny…” It’s barely audible, mostly a sigh. Maybe a plea. 

And Jonny gets it. His fingers are twisting at the button on Pat’s jeans, pulling them open and taking out his cock. Patrick’s aware of the bodies all around him, hears the sounds coming from them, can smell the distinctive odor of sex, sees it as it’s happening just an arm’s length away and knows, too, that there are more than a few pair of eyes looking at the thick, heavy length of his dick cradled in Jonny’s hand. Jonny just smiles and turns him around so very slowly, taking each of Pat’s hands and placing them on the metal grips set into the wall. Pat didn’t even notice them until just that moment. 

All it takes is a quick tug and Pat’s jeans and briefs are down low around his thighs. Jonny slides a hand to cup the hard curve of his ass while the other one wraps around Pat’s chin, a finger tracing his lips before pushing into his mouth. 

“Gonna fuck you so good, Peeks, just like this. Yeah?” Jonny leans his forehead between Pat’s shoulder blades and can’t figure out what’s louder, the throbbing bass echoing from upstairs or the blood rushing through his ears. He lets go of Pat just long enough to pull his dick out and slick it up with the small tube of lube from his pocket and then he’s right there, rubbing against Pat’s hole.  

The pressure sends Patrick up on the balls of his feet, moaning loudly. He feels so exposed and vulnerable, on display like he is, but sexy, too. Part of him likes the thought of everyone knowing how much he loves taking Jonny’s cock in his ass, how much he loves _Jonny_ and this is who he is and what he does and who he does it with. 

The other part of him is nervous, a little self-conscious. He wants to let go and sink in, forget about everyone else around him, but just seeing them there makes him want to cover his ass and his dick and hide from the blatantly prying eyes at every inch of his exposed skin. And then Jonny is pressing against him with clear intent, a hand gripping his hip and holding him in place. He rubs the head of his cock around Patrick’s hole and kisses the smooth skin on the back of his neck and pushes in softly, carefully, almost tenderly. Patrick holds his breath and bends his knees to bear down into the incredible pressure of Jon’s cock splitting him open. It isn’t often they do this without any prep and Pat can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt. 

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Almost there.” Jonny says it against Pat’s ear. There’s a sharp stab of pain and then he’s inside him. Patrick tells himself to relax and Jon pushes further, harder, filling him up with all that thick hardness and Pat lets go, just caves in around him and gives in completely to Jonny’s cock. 

“Never been so full, Jonny, wanna stay like this til I die. Love you so fucking much.” Pat’s words break over Jon like a tidal wave and the soft sounds pouring from his mouth in their wake hit him ever harder.    

Jonny wraps an arm around Pat and holds him tightly against his chest and fucks his ass. Pat lays his head back against Jon and just clings to the metal grips. It’s hard and deep and it’s fast, _so fast_ , and Pat doesn’t know if it’s the weed, the alcohol, the room in general, the voices surrounding them, the bodies, the sex, the heat, the fucking, the…everything…he doesn’t know what it is exactly, just that it’s so much _more_. 

And Patrick decides he likes it, likes knowing that people are watching, that they're getting off on him getting off, and that Jonny's getting off on being watched, on Pat being watched, on this public display of fucking. And so Pat holds onto the sticky handles and pushes back on Jonny, pushes back against his cock, and he feels him go even deeper inside and it makes him groan, makes him bite his lip and close his eyes and feed off the energy of the room. He hears the grunts and moans and cries of men around him and lets it flow through him and urge him on. 

Jonny sees all of this, feels Patrick’s reaction, tightens his fingers that are still on his hip and snaps his own hips even faster. He’s whispering into Pat’s hair, telling him how proud he is of him, how much he loves him, and wraps his other hand tight around his cock. He jerks Pat so hard and fast that it makes him dizzy and he comes hard, _so_ hard, squeezing his ass around Jonny’s cock and pressing his face into his neck. Pat can hear voices nearby, saying things like _yeah baby_ and _that’s it_ and _fuck that sweet ass_ and it just adds to the whole public display of fucking thing and makes him moan and pant louder as the last few spurts of come drip from his dick. 

Jonny hears them, too, and it pushes him over the edge. He collapses against Patrick’s back, cock pulsing deep in his ass as he comes, breath heavy on damp skin as he tries to catch it, the pressure of his dick inside Pat slowly waning as he softens. He pulls out, tucks himself in, pulls up Pat’s jeans and turns him in his arms to kiss him slow and deep and it feels so much more intimate than what they just did. 

“Pat…that was….” Jon can’t even finish his sentence, but he doesn’t really need to. His eyes say everything for him. He looks at Patrick and he’s all Jonny ever wished for, longed for, dreamed of, and the look in Pat’s eyes mirrors his. They both know what they shared here tonight, how they left a part of themselves here forever. 

Jonny takes Patrick’s hand and pulls him back toward the hallway leading upstairs. He slides his fingers between Pat’s and presses their palms together. He’s never really held his hand like this, not in public, and Pat smiles and lets him lead the way out. 

“ _Now_ we’re going back to the hotel,” Jonny says with a grin. 

Pat trails a little behind him, squeezing his hand and still smiling.   

* 

They turn down their hallway and see Soupy in front of his door. He’s a sweaty mess, covered in glitter and fumbling for his room key. Pat’s pretty sure that’s a fresh hickey on the back of his neck. 

“Hey, Bri. Looks like you had one hell of a night. Where’d you go?” Jon asks him as they walk by, not realizing that he and Pat are also still covered in glitter and other things. 

“Met a friend at Pacha’s over in the city. Did you know they have a whole other club down in the basement? Some pretty weird shit going on down there eh. Shame they’re closing up soon.” Brian turns to look at them, a little half smile on his face and an unreadable expression in his eyes. ”Looking real good, you two. Enjoy the rest of your night. Mañana, boys.” 

“Fuck, Pat, what are the chances of that fucking shit? Of all the fucking clubs!” Jonny says as soon as Soupy’s door clicks shut. “Do you think he saw us?” 

Patrick just smiles, pulls a streamer out of Jonny’s hair and reaches for his hand. 

**


End file.
